


Looking for Reality

by prefertheconsultingdetective



Category: Looking (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-30
Updated: 2015-09-30
Packaged: 2018-04-24 04:28:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 895
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4905472
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prefertheconsultingdetective/pseuds/prefertheconsultingdetective
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Richie said that he was so close to falling in love with him, but Patrick wonders if he's fallen already.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Looking for Reality

**Author's Note:**

> Season 1 left me like a mess and I'm a bit afraid of watching S2, because I've seen the gifs all over Tumblr and I freaking fucking hate Kevin.  
> If anyone finds mistakes, please go ahead pointing them out to me!

The morning after Richie broke up with him, Patrick feels like shit.

He wakes up with his laptop still on his chest and Augustíne drooling all over his shoulder.

His neck hurts and his ass is sore and the Escapulario rubs uncomfortably against his collarbone.

 

Patrick cries in the shower with his forehead pressed against the tiles until the water turns cold and he looks away when Augustíne passes him in the doorway, because even though he's been a real jerk the last couple of days, he's still his best friend and he going to look right through him.

 

He goes out, leaving a note for Augustíne that he's late to work, but when he sees Kevin's silhouette against his office window it makes him turn on his heel.

 

Patrick feels like getting drunk and forgetting about all the shit that has happened. He feels like collapsing right here on the sidewalk and never getting up again.

 

He goes to where Richie took his hand and told him about his fucking Seňorita and it feels like someone ripped his heart right out.

 

Richie said that he was so close to falling in love with him, but Patrick wonders if he's fallen already and he's never felt so pathetic.

 

*

 

Patrick doesn't go to work all week, he trusts Owen to make up a plausible story about food poisoning or some shit.

He can't even look at himself in the mirror, so he definitely cannot face Kevin.

 

Augustíne moves in again and the smell of pot wavers through the whole apartment and it's like old times, but at the same time it's not at all.

 

 

Patrick doesn't call Richie and he promises himself not to text either. He deletes Kevin's number and wants to delete Richie's as well, but he can't bring himself to do it. It's the ridiculous press of a button and data deleted from the internal memory of his fucking smartphone, but it's the one step he cannot take. It's like it would make it real.

 

 

Patrick finger's himself for the first time in years and thinks of the cock that wasn't the cock he wanted and when he comes he feels disgusting and hollow.

What started as a worse week than the week after he came out, proceeds to be the worst month in his goddamn life.

 

*

 

Dom and Augustíne go out on Saturday and while he doesn't really feel like it, they drag him with them anyway.

Augustíne buys them all shots, because _there's no better cure for broken hearts_ and Lynn didn't call Dom back, too.

 

They get spectacularly drunk and when they're on their way to a different club Patrick loses the others in the crowd.

 

 

When he's in Muni and staring at the map, trying to figure out where the fuck he is, an old woman asks him if he's alright and hands him a tissue, because apparently he's crying again.

 

It's the painful irony of the situation that makes him get out his phone and call Richie. Somewhere deep in his head he hears Augustíne say that this is why he should have deleted the number, but this is a good idea, because Patrick is not sure he can breathe any longer without hearing Richie's voice.

 

He picks ups after only two rings. He says _hey_ and his voice sounds soft and tired. It remembers Patrick of lazy mornings in Richie's bed bathed in sunlight.

It makes him cry helplessly in his phone.

“Patrick?” Richie asks and Patrick wonders if his name was written on Richie's phone screen or if Richie was stronger than him.

 

“I miss you horribly.” he sniffles and wipes his nose. “I keep thinking of you. I – I'm sorry I fucked up, but you're the realest thing I've ever had and I can't forget how you made me feel.”

 

Richie sighs at the end of the line. “Oh, Pato”

 

Patrick sobs and presses the heel of his hand against his eye, he feels the old woman staring at him and the train stops and the door opens and people leave and other people come in and when they start again, he's halfway back to breathing normally.

 

“I have no idea where I am,” he says and wants to add that he's lost and he hopes that Richie understands, but there are millions of miles between them and probably the whole city, too.

 

“Are you drunk, Patrick?” Richie asks and then makes him ask the old lady what the name of the next station is.

He tells him to wait for him and when he gets off a train half an hour later he's wearing his Giants cap and the gold of his chain glows in the street lights.

 

He brings Patrick home and let's him press his nose against his neck.

Patrick thinks he can feel Richie's fingers in his hair, but when he wants to lift his head, Richie gets up because they have to get out.

 

Richie makes him drink two glasses of water and the dizzy buzz of the alcohol makes Patrick's guilt go far away and act like the selfish jerk he is.

He falls asleep with Richie's lips on his neck and his nose buried in his hair, but when he wakes up he's alone and the data of Richie's number deleted off his phone.

It's all real now.

 


End file.
